


Rain Over Eden

by Kaz_Langston



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Ineffable Husbands Week 2019, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 07:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20542205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaz_Langston/pseuds/Kaz_Langston
Summary: When the first thunderstorm swept over Eden, Aziraphale sought shelter, but he wasn't left alone for long.A fluffy missing scene.Prompt: #IneffableHusbands day 2: Rain, storm, downpour





	Rain Over Eden

**Author's Note:**

> Technically show compliant only but only diverges very slightly from the book.

When Aziraphale had raised his wing above Crawly's head, back at the very beginning of it all, neither of them had realised quite what a torrential downpour they would be in for. 

They stood and watched the rain roll over the desert, huge dark sheets of it, and as the first drops scattered on the wall, Aziraphale flinched, feathers ruffling. "It's cold!" 

He raised his other wing, covering his own head, but the angle wasn't quite right, and the rising wind kept catching and tugging at the feathers uncomfortably, so he let it drop again. The sensation of the rain wasn't entirely pleasant, and it was another new thing in this strange, exciting world. Very different to the vast stale emptiness of heaven.

Crawly shuffled closer still as the rain grew heavier, pattering down on his bare feet and exposed calf. "I can't say I like it very much." 

"She must have a reason for it." 

The demon griped under his breath, pulling his robe up around his shoulders, but didn't say anything loud enough for Aziraphale to hear, just in case the blasphemy would have him snatching away the shelter of his wing.

They stood there for long minutes as the sky darkened around them, rain turning Aziraphale's pale curls to honey gold and staining his robe from broad shoulders to delicate bare feet. 

Eventually Crawly looked away from the empty land in front of them. "Guess you'll be going then."

"Hmm?"

"You know. Back upstairs. Nice and dry there."

Aziraphale flashed him a brief, awkward smile. "Yes, it would be, I suppose." He didn't move. "Surely it's dry downstairs too? All the - the flames, and so on."

Crawly pursed his lips, face scrunching unhappily. "Well there's the flame-y bits, but the rest of it's pretty damp. Least here there's plants."

Aziraphale hummed noncommittally. Fat drops of rain fell unhappily from the edge of his wings, eventually building into rivulets that spattered at their feet. The angel was drenched, robe clinging to every curve, but didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with his thoughts. 

There was little sign of an end to the rain, and Crawly didn't fancy waiting on the wall forever just for another chance at seeing the humans. He gave the soggy angel one last look, then released his grip on the human form, folding to the ground. It earned him an interested look, and the wing folded back.

"Thankssss for the shelter, angel." 

Aziraphale watched him go, a neat shape cutting through the pooling water. Over the edge of the wall he went, back to the safety of the garden. He hoped the demon wouldn't snack on too many of the little fluffy creatures that had so recently popped into existence; it seemed a little unfair, and those 'rabbits' had been awfully sweet. Adorable, that is. Not sugary. 

Squinting out at the desert, Aziraphale heaved a sigh. He didn't know what a lead balloon was, or why it was a bad thing, but he certainly understand the sentiment. Things were… not good. Not good at all. And the gnawing feeling that he had made more than one mistake was refusing to go away.

He cut a lonely figure, the angel of the Eastern Gate watching out over the newly populated Earth, and had She been watching She might have felt sorry for him. Perhaps She did. But She moves in Her own way, and that doesn't include sheltering wayward angels from thundering rain. So eventually Aziraphale was driven from the wall, bare feet padding down the steps, robe clinging uncomfortably. 

In the shadow at the base of the wall, the rain was less torrential, just a light drizzle until the wind howled and brought it down heavily again. Aziraphale took the opportunity to dry off a little, great wings shuddering and fluttering until there was only a little dampness still clinging to them. There wasn't much he could do about his robe, or at least not much point in doing anything until he reached somewhere dry.

He trudged unhappily through the trees, thinking wistfully of heaven. Perhaps it would be a good idea - but no, Gabriel wouldn't like it. Certainly wouldn't like it if he turned up at heaven's gates wet and dripping on the pearly floor. Privately, miserably, he thought that silly angels who let their guard down and failed at their only job probably didn't deserve to be whisked back to the warm dry refuge of heaven. No, he'd stay. Surely things would look better in the morning.

A few minutes more, and he was among the largest trees. Great leaves stretched overhead, a canopy that was almost but not quite enough to stop the rain. A little further again, and he was there. The humans had named it  _ willow _ , and marveled at the long delicate leaves. 

He parted the sodden branches, ducking underneath with little thought for his wings as they trailed behind him, and then the persistent dripping was gone. He could hear it still lashing down outside but under the tangle of leaves it was dry, and the loss of the howling wind meant it was warm enough to be comfortable. Too dark to really see properly, so "Let there be light!" and then there was light.

There wasn't enough space to stretch out both wings at once, so he shook them off one at a time. The feathers always lay a bit funny after being miracled, and the oil kept them weatherproof enough. Angelic robes, however, were rarely worse off after a miracle, so with a click of his fingers the cloth was dry. Irons hadn't quite been invented yet but if they had been, he might have been proud of the neat press he'd managed. 

Aziraphale flopped to the ground with a sigh, crossing his legs and resting his chin on one hand. 

It didn't take long until he was bored. The humans had mostly kept him occupied, the rest of his time filled with keeping an eye out for wily demons, but stuck here with no company and without the garden to explore, time slowed to a crawl.

He poked dejectedly at the dirt with a stick, making shapes - one was maybe an angel, a little oval with triangular wings spread wide. He drew a second little figure, but they looked uncomfortably similar and he wasn't sure what he could add to make it look like a demon, so instead he scratched it out and drew a long squiggle. If he thought hard he could almost pretend that it had bright yellow eyes.

Quite preoccupied, he didn't notice when the leaves parted again, until a hiss by his ear made him jump half out of his skin.

Soft laughter, then, "Hello again, angel."

Silky coils slid around him, over the little sketches in the dirt. The brush of chilled wet snakeskin against his own warm flesh made him jump, wide eyed, and he tucked his legs up against his chest, arms around them to keep them out of the way of the long coils.

"Crawly. What do you want?"

"I sssaw your light. It'sss cold and wet out there, I thought it would be better here." He'd tried his usual bolt holes, but the rain had been persistent, trickling down tunnels and licking at his scales unpleasantly.

"Well  _ I'm _ here, and there's not enough room for both of us. Find somewhere else!"

The long loops of the serpent were crowding in the cramped space, and Aziraphale looked interestingly anxious at being all but surrounded, nervously watching the length of him.

The snake gave what - from a human - would have been a harrumph of annoyance and an eye roll, and with a rippling undulation slowly reformed into the shape of a flame haired human. He took up less room like this, less spread out, though he had to duck just a little below the heavy canopy and his wings were folded tightly to his back.

"I thought angels were supposed to be all about sharing. Isn't charity a virtue?"

"Not towards  _ demons _ ." 

It's hard to look down your nose when you're looking up at someone, but Aziraphale managed it. Still, he shuffled over a little, enough space for Crawly to drop down to the floor across from him. 

The little drawings had been long smeared away by serpentine tracks, and he didn't want to redraw them with an audience, so instead they sat in silence, listening to the storm. Thunder cracked overhead and they both shivered. 

_ Gabriel _ , thought Aziraphale.

_ Falling _ , thought Crawly. 

They made eye contact and both looked away, embarrassed at their own weakness.

They sat, almost close enough to touch, until one or the other of them decided to lie down, and the other followed soon after. Perhaps Crawly moved first - he'd spent half his time in the garden lounging in the sun after all - or perhaps Aziraphale, tired of the silence, had decided the human habit of sleep would pass the time better.

Curled on their sides, back to back, their wings relaxed in sleep. If a black wingtip stretched out just a little to lay across a spray of white, neither of them would remember in the morning.

It was going to be, as they say, a dark and stormy night. But under a willow tree an angel and a demon slept, safe from the storm.

*-*-*-*-*

Aziraphale awoke to silence. Eyes still half lidded, he rolled over, expecting to be alone, only to come face to face with gleaming yellow eyes, which blinked lazily at him in the green-cast gloom.

"Want to go see the humans?"

He did, actually, and if it meant he could leave this strange, cosy refuge without discussing anything with the demon, all the better.

The walk he'd done yesterday went much quicker with company, the demon pointing things out as though they hadn't both already spent months there. Bright birds sang and called overhead, and small creatures scurried through the undergrowth as they approached. In some places water still dripped from the leaves, and the ground was soft, but it felt pleasant underfoot. Once or twice Aziraphale stopped to wriggle his toes and feel the mud squish pleasantly between them, then finally washed the dirt away in a stream so icy it made him yelp, much to Crawly's amusement. 

The wall was, of course, how they had left it, and Crawly bounded up the steps energetically. Aziraphale followed more sedately, only to find the demon frozen at the top.

"What's- ohhhh!"

Where there had once been a vast plain of sand, golden emptiness as far as the eye could see, now lay a sea of green. The desert was full of fresh life, tiny shoots reaching up through something that now resembled the dirt they'd been walking through, rather than harsh unwelcoming sand.

With an abruptness that made Aziraphale jump, Crawly leapt off the wall with his wings spread wide, gliding neatly to the ground. 

Aziraphale followed, back beating his wings to slow his descent and avoid crushing any of the new growth. Landing beside the demon, he smiled triumphantly. "I had faith that She had a plan for the storm. It was just ineffable."

The demon curled his lip back in a snarl, but his heart wasn't in it, preoccupied with the young plants. He wove his way slowly, picking his steps carefully to avoid the tiny seedlings, here and there crouching down to touch the fresh new life with hands that trembled. "I can feel the life in them," he said distantly. "They loved the rain, they love the sun. They're so… happy." 

Aziraphale watched him with shrewd, careful eyes. 

"She's not forsaken the humans completely. She's given them all this, even though She's banished them. She still loves them." He thought he'd been ignored, but when he opened his mouth to add something else, Crawly gave him such a furious, haunted look that he fumbled into silence.

"Probably just making sure they can remember the garden now they're stuck outside it. Remind them what they're missing." He straightened, the strange, soft mood broken. "See you around, angel."

Strong black wings carried him into the bright blue morning sky. Aziraphale was left alone with his thoughts and with the sight of surging, ebullient growth everywhere the demon had touched.


End file.
